An Awfully Big Adventure
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: There's always that one night that changes your life. Before Hermione Granger leaves for Australia to locate her parents, she has hers.
1. Chapter 1

I promised my "Into the Unknown" readers yesterday that I would soon post my new story. Here it is! As always, I own nothing. Also, enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 1<br>The Ministry was again celebrating the end of the Second Wizarding War. It was the third event held in the months since the war ended. Various fighters were honored and posthumous awards were presented to those whose lives were lost at the hands of the Death Eaters. It was only the third event, but Hermione Granger had had enough. Dress robes annoyed her, too many people demanded her attention, and the speeches had all been heard before.

And so, as she night wore on, Hermione found herself slowly inching toward the rented hall's front door. A warm breeze rustled her curly hair once she stepped outside. The lights from inside softly illuminated the front courtyard, casting a glow on the lone blond seated at the bottom of the stairs.

"Gate crashing, are you?" she accused, descending the stairs.

Draco Malfoy's head turned at the sound of the voice behind him. A sneer turned up the right corner of his lips for only a moment. "I'll have you know I was invited," he replied, looking away from her. "I really have no idea why though," he added, lowering his voice so she wouldn't hear.

Hermione reached the bottom step and sat down with enough distance between them. "I can't think of a reason either," she replied as she adjusted her robes around her.

"Shouldn't you be inside?" he asked, dusting off his pant leg.

Hermione scoffed. "Wow, Malfoy, one whole minute of kindness. This must be some kind of record," she commented as she rose. Three steps up, she stopped and turned back to him. "As always, great to see you, Malfoy."

The sound of shoes hitting concrete sounded behind her. "I didn't mean it that way, Granger," he stated, stopping her near the front door. Again, Hermione scoffed. Then she noticed that his hand held her upper arm. He slowly withdrew it and clasped his hands behind his back. "All I meant was...I don't know. You belong here, unlike certain other guests." He pointed to himself before shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Why did you come then?" she wondered softly.

Shrugging, Draco leaned his back against the door. "It seemed like a good way to start restoring the family name," he replied. "With my father in prison and my mother not leaving the house, it's all up to me."

"Sounds like a lot for one person to take on," Hermione commented. Draco nodded, turning his head away. "You'll probably not accomplish much if you spend the entire evening out here."

He pushed away from the door and took a seat on the top step. "No one wants me here anyhow," he muttered. "Between the looks and the waiters refusing to serve me, I'd say it's decidedly less chilly out here."

"I don't really want to be in there either," she admitted, joining him. This time, they sat closer than they had before. The wind picked up, sending a shiver down her spine. From the corner of her eye, she watched Draco remove his jacket and silently drape it around her shoulders. "Thanks," she whispered, receiving a nod in response.

"Not one for all the fanfare?" Draco guessed, though he knew he was correct.

Hermione pulled his jacket tighter around herself. "The first one wasn't terrible, I guess," she said, staring off into the night. "It just seems wrong to celebrate so much when we lost so many people. I'm sure you'll think I'm crazy, but every time the doors open, I expect it to be Tonks or Lupin or Professor Dumbledore walking in. They never do though.

"I'm just getting tired of it all," she continued. "There are more important things to do than sip champagne and listen to speeches."

"Like what?" Draco wondered.

She sighed deeply. "Like finishing school, figuring out what to do with my life, and...and finding my parents." Draco flashed her a questioning look, and so she explained what she had done before the start of the war. Before she had left for the Burrow the summer before, she had modified her parents' memories. They were now Monica and Wendell Wilkins, nature photographers who loved Australia, and had no children.

"So, you don't exist to them anymore," he summarized. Hermione gave him a confirming nod. "When will the Golden Trio dash off to the outback to rescue them?"

"Harry and Ron aren't coming with me," she answered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Auror training will begin soon, and they've been accepted without their N.E.W.T.s. So, I'll be going it alone."

They sat in silence as the minutes passed, each one lost in their own thoughts. No one seemed to notice the two absent guests, and Draco and Hermione were both grateful for it. The moon stars shone overhead, casting a soft glow over the two classmates.

"I never apologized to you," he finally spoke up. Brown curls flew around her head as she jerked it to the left to look at him. Honey brown eyes widened and her mouth hung slightly agape as she waited for any further explanation. "Is it really that shocking that I would know how to apologize?" he asked mirthfully.

"Actually, yes," she replied, blinking several times.

"Well, I am sorry for what's happened in the past," he continued. "I spent a lot of time trying to be like my father, and in the last couple of years, I realized that everything he did and said were completely wrong. I'm sure it doesn't do much to change your thinking of me, and I won't blame you if you can't accept. But, honestly, I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Malfoy," she replied sincerely.

He shrugged. "You didn't deserve it. Any of it," he replied, glancing at her covered right arm. Both knew what was to be found underneath - the scarred etching of the word "mudblood" courtesy of his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione nodded, but said nothing. Her mind replayed the events of months earlier - the witch dressed in black, the dagger in her hand, the wand pointed on the frightened girl as pain shot through her malnourished body. It wasn't until Harry and Ron escaped the cellar that a reprieve had come. But she still bore the scars of that day, felt the twitches in her muscles from the Cruciatus curse, and relived the memories in her sleep.

"You didn't either," she finally said. Gray eyes met brown, and for the first time that evening, they finally looked at one another. An unseen force drew them closer until their shoulders touched. At the same time, they leaned in, face to face, until lips touched. It was a soft, gentle kiss; one that lasted only a few seconds.

"You're not here with Weasley, right?" Draco sought confirmation before continuing. Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes as his lips touched hers once more. Draco deepened the kiss, now knowing what he needed to know. He hadn't expected to want to be near her, to touch her. But, with her lips pressed to his own, he didn't want that feeling to end.

"Hermione?" The lip-locked pair turned to face the staring, angry redhead above them. "What in the bloody hell is going on here? Merlin, it's bad enough they invite the likes of him to these things, but now I have to watch my best friend snog this trash?"

"That's enough, Ronald," Hermione admonished as she got to her feet. "Just...that's enough."

Ron took hold of her arm and began to lead her back into the party. "Dessert's out," he spoke softly. "We can go home after that."

Hermione jerked her arm out of his hold and told him to go on without her. "I'll be right in," she told him, though she had no intentions of returning to the party. Minorly assuaged by her promise, Ron reentered the hall, leaving Draco and Hermione alone once more. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to where Draco sat. "Come with me," she requested.

Warily, Draco rose to his feet and took her proffered hand. "You're not going to drag me back in there, are you?"

Smiling, Hermione shook her head. Her smile managed to calm him and increase his nerves at the same time. She said nothing as she led them down the stairs and to the walk. Then the disorienting pull of Apparation took over until finally the world was clear again.

"Where are we?" he wondered, looking at the two story house in front of him.

"Home," was her simple reply. She let them in through the front door and turned on the sitting room lights. "I grew up here. Sometimes, when staying at the Burrow becomes too much, I come back here. It's quiet and peaceful, and I swear to you, it still smells like my family."

Draco surveyed the small space - the floral sofa which faced the fireplace, the white lace curtains that hung around the large picture window, the books that were crammed onto shelves and stacked high on end tables. But it was the pictures on the mantle that soon caught his attention. There were holes, as if a person were missing, and then he realized it was Hermione who was missing from the still scenes.

Turning around, he saw Hermione standing behind the couch. He rounded the sofa until he stood beside her. A hopeful look passed between the pair, and then he kissed her.


	2. Chapter 2

As I mentioned in my author's note yesterday for "Into the Unknown", I sort of struggled with this story after chapter 1. I like to write a few chapters ahead, and started to worry that maybe I've written this before. But, as it so often happens in my life, laziness won out and I decided to continue with my original plan. Today, I'm working on chapter 5 and I'm really liking the feel of it. Hopefully you all will too!

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><p>Chapter 2<br>The midday Australian sun beat harshly upon Hermione Granger's pale skin. A month had passed since she arrived down under, and her searches had proved fruitless. Night after night, as she lay in her hotel bed, flashes of Draco played through her mind. It had only been one night, but that one night had irrevocably changed everything between them.

_"Let me help you," he had asked as the morning sun rose. "You can't do this all on your own."_

She had been emphatic that she could handle the mission. That was before she landed in Australia and realized she hadn't the slightest idea where to start her search.

_"I'm an owl away, Hermione. The second you want me there, I'll take the first international portkey to you," he promised._

As the sun grew hotter, she found solace in a small, beach-side cafe. After ordering an iced tea, she poured over her notes. Though they were sparse, Hermione had hope that one of her ideas would pan out. As she flipped through her notebook, full of crossed out paragraphs and edges from torn out pages, she came to a semi blank page. All that had been written was "_Dear Draco_,". Every day for a month, she attempted to compose the letter to him, asking that he join her. It wasn't that she thought herself unable to find her parents on her own, but it was lonely.

The night they had spent together a month ago had surprised her beyond words. Draco Malfoy, the once bigoted pureblood supremacist, had made the first move. He had initiated the kisses, deepened them, and eventually made her feel comfortable enough to allow him in her bed. It had been her first time, and it was Draco who made her feel special. The next morning, she awoke in his arms, fearful that the previous evening had been one, long, happy dream. He had been the enemy for so long, but that night, all seemed to have been forgiven.

_"I thought you would have left," she whispered when his eyes opened._

_"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, brow furrowing as he loosened his arms around her waist._

_"No," she decided._

It surprised her now how much she missed him. She wondered, if she could just finish the letter, would Draco come as he promised? Or had his words been empty promises spoken in the aftermath of sex? No, she decided, he had been genuine. He cared for her and wanted to help in any way he could.

Her thoughts were distracted as a waitress carried a tray of overly aromatic food. Her stomach rolled and her throat tightened as she forced herself to remain calm long enough to make it to the loo. There, she emptied the limited contents of her stomach. Everyday for the past week, she had repeated these actions. No longer could she attribute the stomach upset to something she ate. Now she began to wonder if something else was behind her illness.

Her search would have to take a break for the day in order to get to the bottom of things. She prayed to any Deity who would listen that she was wrong. On the way back to her hotel, she stopped off at a pharmacy to buy the test she needed. She compared the boxes - the three minute, the five minute, pink line, blue line, pregnant/not pregnant tests - until she decided she could no longer look at them. She took the one that was in her left hand and paid for her purchase.

Two blocks away was the small, pay-by-the night motel in which she had taken up residence while in Sydney. It would be another two days before she left for Melbourne where she hoped the accommodations would be a bit more pleasant. But the lack of cleanliness was far from her mind as she set about her task.

Three minutes was all it would take to change her life.

Hermione paced in front of the bathroom counter, listening to her wand tick as it counted down the seconds. In one minute and twenty-five seconds, she would have her answer. The seconds ticked by, sounding like a death march in her ears. Forty-five more seconds, and her heart raced frantically. Thirty, and her palms began to sweat. Fifteen, and she could no longer see straight.

Her wand buzzed, signalling time was up. Hesitantly, Hermione lifted the test off the counter. Two pinks lines appeared on the white stick. Pregnant.

She was eighteen years old, only three months away from nineteen. She was alone on a foreign continent with no family and no friends. And she was pregnant.

One tear slipped down her right cheek, then one down her left until she lost count of the number of tears she cried. Had it been a year ago, she would have cried for the end of her childhood, but war had seen to the end of that. Her time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, coupled with her friendship with the famous Harry Potter, had forced her to grow up faster than the other children her age.

Now, she cried for her unborn child. She cried for her parents, for Draco, for her friends. Harry and Ron would never forgive her. Draco Malfoy had been the enemy for too long, and despite his change of heart, they would never seem him in a positive light. But for all he had changed, Draco may never forgive her either. They had been careless and impulsive, two qualities Hermione had never admired. And the consequences would alter both their lives indefinitely.

Drying her eyes, Hermione reached into her magically expanding beaded purse and pulled out her notebook. Turning the pages, she reached her latest, unfinished note to Draco. The ever-inked quill was poised over the parchment, waiting for pen to be put to paper.

But what could she say?

If she told him the news in her letter, he might never come. She would be alone until she found her parents, if she found her parents. She would have their baby and raise it on her own. Perhaps they would help her once they forgave her for all she had done.

The small sliver of optimism in her told her that once he knew about her pregnancy that he would want to be around. Draco had told her about his relationship with his own father and his dream of being nothing like him. He would want the chance to know and love his child, and far be it from Hermione to stop him.

Pressing the tip of her quill to the parchment, she composed her letter. Draco would know about the baby, but she would tell him in person. Instead of a long-winded soliloquy, she simply wrote,_ "Dear Draco, please come soon. Yours, Hermione."_


	3. Chapter 3

I haven't got much to say today. It's dreary and I've just unpacked everything from my old cubicle into my new one. We have an overabundance of paper clips, and it turns out they make effective bobby pins. I'm also using a rubber band to ponytail my hair. It's very office supply chic. Maybe I'll start a trend.

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><p>Chapter 3<br>It was noon the next day when the owl reached Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. The post was delivered to Draco on a silver tray by the Malfoy family's house elf, Twinky. A forkful of roasted chicken was halfway to his mouth as he opened the note. The utensil clattered to the plate when he finished reading the seven words she had written.

"Master does not like his lunch?" Twinky asked nervously as he watched Draco dash out of the dining room.

"I need to pack," he said, ignoring his elf's anxious demeanor. "No, I need to arrange a portkey. Please see that my things are together." Twinky disappeared with a crack as Draco set to work on acquiring the portkey.

Within fifteen minutes, Draco found himself in Sydney, Australia, inside a cheap motel room. The walls were a chipped, dingy beige, the tan carpet desperately needed cleaning, the once red comforter hung halfway to the floor. Checking that the door was securely locked, he moved towards the closed bathroom door and knocked.

"Hermione?" he called out, rapping his knuckle against the door once more. The door opened on the second knock and the frazzled witch flew into his arms. "What happened? What's wrong?" he asked, holding her tightly.

Hermione wiggled in his grasp, trying to loosen his arms enough to allow her to pull back. "I didn't mean to frighten you," she apologized. Draco pressed a kiss to her forehead; a sign that she was forgiven.

He led her to the bed, and together they sat on the edge. "What's going on?" he asked, softer this time. Concern shimmered in his gray eyes for the witch by his side. It wasn't normal for him to feel such affection of anyone, let alone his childhood foe. She had been quick to accept him though, and given the opportunity, he would spend the rest of his life proving to her just how much he cared.

Hermione slipped out of his arm and padded slowly to the bathroom. She returned with the pregnancy test in hand, carefully holding the top between thumb and index finger. Standing in front of his seated form, Hermione handed him the test with the instruction to hold it from the top as well.

"I don't know what this is," he stated, confusion furrowing his light blond eyebrows. "What exactly am I looking at? What are the lines for?"

"It's a muggle pregnancy test. Two lines is positive," she explained, carefully choosing her words. She didn't think her heart could take it if he bolted.

Draco swallowed past the lump that had begun to form in his throat. "Positive...meaning you're going to have a baby?" he clarified.

"Positive meaning we're having a baby," she corrected. Hermione was sure that, once her words were processed, Draco would be gone. His eyes widened and mouth hung open. They moved back down to the plastic stick in his hand before settling on her once more.

"You mean you," he swallowed hard, "you want me around?"

Confused, she stepped closer and rested a hand on his cheek. "Why would you think any other way?" she wondered.

His head turned to the side, dislodging her hand from his face, and stared out the open window. "Because until that night you hated me," he quietly muttered.

Hermione took a seat to his right, blocking his view of the parking lot. "And because of that night I don't," she countered. "Draco, I never hated you. You were mean and a bully, but you were a kid. I don't see that angry little boy anymore."

Leaning in, she gingerly brushed her lips over his own. His hand rested on her still flat stomach when she pulled back. "You don't deserve this," he told her, the tone of his voice sounding forlorn.

She would give him an out, a chance to wash his hands of the situation completely. "Draco, if you don't want this, any of it, you can go. No questions asked. I won't fight you," she said.

"No," he decided with a resolute shake of his head. "No, Hermione, I'm in this. Just a bit...freaked out by it all. Do your friends know yet?"

Hermione paled. She hadn't considered how she would tell Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. They had become a second family to her, opening their home and extending their love and support. But, she knew, they would not react favorably to the presence of Draco Malfoy in her life. It bothered her to think that she would lose the close knit brood once they returned to England.

"No, I wanted you to know first," she replied. "My parents will be the next ones to know once I find them."

"Once we find them," he interjected. His arms wound around her once more, pulling her small frame closer.

Her head rested in the crook of his neck, light brown curls tickling the skin. Her breath was warm as she sighed, and Draco swore he felt one hot tear fall from her chin to hit his skin. "We're going to be alright," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

"We fought, just before I left," she told him, moving closer. "Harry, Ron, and I. Ron figured out that something happened between you and me. Harry insisted I be taken to St. Mungo's to check for signs that I'd been Imperio'd. I didn't even say goodbye to them, just packed what I had at the Burrow and left.

"They'll never speak to me again when they find out," she realized.

Draco felt his chest constrict at her heartbreaking epiphany. Her return to England would no longer be a warm welcome home, but an angry attempt to separate the couple. Perhaps he should have walked away when she gave him the opportunity.

He shook his head. No longer would he be the coward who hid behind goons and his father's money. No longer would he quake when Harry Potter pointed his wand at him. The world following the war was meant to be a better place, and if Draco had to make the first move toward unity, then he would do so for Hermione's and their child's sake. Her happiness rested on his shoulders, and for once, he vowed not to make of mess of things.

"Everything will be okay," he said again, stroking her hair. He hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

So, the last chapter got very little love. I've decided to convince myself that everyone's on vacation. Then I got a bit jealous because I'd like to be on vacation even though I came back from mine a couple weeks ago. Maybe I should be one of those people who reviews hotels and resorts. Sure it would be work, but it would be like getting to go on vacation all the time. That's a real job, right?

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><p>Chapter 4<br>The right side of the bed was cold and empty when Hermione awoke the next morning. The curtains had been drawn to keep the rising sun out, and so she awoke to darkness. Turning on the bedside lamp, she looked around the small room for any sign of Draco. He was nowhere to be found in the main room, and from the vanity mirror, she could tell that the bathroom was vacant. Panic rose in her chest; he had taken off in the middle of the night.

Just as she climbed out of bed, the door opened. A slip of sunlight illuminated the blond as he entered the motel room. The door had just shut behind him when he caught sight of Hermione standing near the bathroom.

"I have breakfast," he offered, holding up the bag.

"I thought you'd left," she said, her tone flat, but even.

Setting the bag down on the dresser, he crossed the room to stand before her. "I thought I told you I wasn't going anywhere." His grip on her upper arms was strong yet gentle as he spoke. "I'm in this with you, for the long haul. I'm sticking around for as long as you'll let me, Hermione."

One short step forward, and she was able to wrap her arms around his torso. "I want you to stick around because it's what you want. Not because you feel pressured to stay," she told him. Her forehead rested against his chest, eyes cast downwards.

Sighing, he moved his hands away from her arms and took her hands. He led them to the foot of the bed and sat down, pulling Hermione down with him. Less than 24 hours had passed since finding out he would be a father, and it would take longer than that to get used to such an idea. But the situation in which he found himself was far from terrible. Though love was still a while away, he cared very deeply for the witch by his side. While their night together had been the turning point in slowly building friendship, it had been months before that he stopped seeing Hermione Granger as a mudblood nuisance. He had watched her bleed, heard her tortured cries, knew the pain she suffered at his aunt's hand and wand. She was no different from the rest of the people he knew, and from that day forward, Draco vowed to make a change.

"You know, if the...events at the Manor hadn't happened, I wouldn't be sitting here right now," he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "I don't know that I would have gotten past our differences."

"You don't know that," she replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. "The war changed a lot of people for the better. Pansy Parkinson said hi to me at the memorial service. It's not the same as what occurred between us, but don't you think it's a sign that maybe our blood status doesn't matter?"

"All I know is I don't want our child growing up the way I was raised," he declared. "My father was never around, never wanted anything to do with me. Unless you count punishing me, that is. I took my first Cruciatus curse when I was twelve, just after my first year at Hogwarts. He was always a bit intimidating, but I out and out feared him after that. I don't want our child to cower every time I walk through the door."

"You're a better man than your father, Draco," Hermione assured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He gave an uncertain nod and rose from the bed to grab breakfast. A delighted smile broke out on Hermione's face at the sight of chocolate croissants and tea. "I forgot all about breakfast," she admitted, taking a tea from Draco.

"Eating for two now, Granger," he joked. They finished their breakfast in silence, and as she slowly sipped her tea, he asked, "Do you think we should get married?"

Hermione choked, coughing hard as the tea slipped down the wrong pipe. When the fit subsided and she could speak again, she answered. "I think we should wait. It's just, with everything that's happened already, maybe we should take things a bit slower. And I always wanted my dad to walk me down the aisle."

Draco breathed a small sigh of relief. As much as he wanted to do the honorable thing, he also wanted to marry the woman he loved. And for all she had been through, he believed that she deserved her happy ending to include a man she loved and cherished. But a small part of him wondered if, one day, her wedding photo would include him.

"Have you seen my journal?" Hermione asked, effectively snapping Draco out of his thoughts.

It took a moment for her words to register, but when they did, he produced the journal from his bag along with a sheepish smile. "You haven't got much to go on," he observed. While she had slept, he had read her notes.

Sadly, Hermione shook her head. "I sent them to Sydney, but they must have moved around quite a bit," she explained, finishing the last of her tea. "Australia doesn't seem like such a big continent, but now it may as well be the size of Asia. I've been here a month, looked everywhere I thought they might be, but I've come up short at every turn."

"You said they're photographers now, right?" he asked, receiving a nod in reply. "Maybe they've been published. There has to be a way to find that out."

"Well, I've checked the local publications, as well as a few photography shops in the area, but no one knows the name."

Draco was back to square one. The next logical idea would be to try another major city now that Hermione had exhausted Sydney. Judging by the studious expression on Hermione's face, she was thinking the same thing. "What are you thinking?" he wondered.

"I think I want to go to Melbourne," she replied. "I was also wondering if you knew anything about tracking spells."


	5. Chapter 5

Happy 4th of July! I'm celebrating by watching the History Channel and posting a new chapter. Originally, I planned to delete this story, but after many people asking me not to, I decided to listen. My hope is that you still like the story!

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><p>Chapter 5<br>For a year, they searched the continent for any sign of the Grangers. It wasn't until they doubled back to Sydney that luck struck. Draco waited in line to pick up dinner at a small cafe near the hotel in which they resided. In the sling around his neck slept his three month old daughter.

"That's a beautiful baby, if you don't mind my saying."

He turned to the woman behind him and smiled. "I don't mind at all."

She tucked a golden brown curl behind her ear. "What's her name?" she inquired, staring capitivatedly at the baby.

"Pippa," he told her. "Well, Philippa, after my fiancee's grandmother."

"Oh, that was my mother's name too," the woman replied.

The pieces began to clip into place in Draco's mind. The woman behind him bared an uncanny resemblance to Hermione - curly brown hair, eyes the color of chocolate, a nose that turned up slightly at the point, and a perfect smile. Was it possible that he had found her mother without even really trying?

"I'm Drake Malfoy, by the way," he introduced himself, hoping to keep the conversation going long enough to find out more about her. It had been Hermione's idea to drop the second syllable when introducing himself to muggles, as Draco was a less than common name.

"Well, it seems your order is ready, Drake," she pointed out. With a tight lipped smile, he took the bag in one hand, the other supporting the baby. "Congratulations," she told him as he began to walk away.

"Thanks," he replied. When her back was turned to him, he cast a quiet, wandless tracking spell. Hopefully his hunch was correct.

Minutes later, he arrived back at the hotel. It was much posher a place than when he had first arrived in Australia; his bank account credited for the more upscale accommodations. Hermione had balked at the sheer size of the suite, claiming it was too much for only three people. Three months before she was due to deliver, they had returned to Sydney as Hermione could no longer travel. Draco had booked the suite indefinitely and magicked the second bedroom into a nursery for his soon to be born daughter. The day Pippa arrived, Draco slipped the engagement ring onto Hermione's finger, promising to love and care for her and their daughter forever.

"Oh, thank goodness, food." Hermione took the bag from his hand and walked into the kitchenette to pull out plates.

"As always, nice to see you too, love," he joked. After settling Pippa into her bassinet, he joined her and placed a kiss on her cheek. Each taking a plate, they sat down at the table and ate quietly. Draco finished first and waited for Hermione to be done. His heart beat wildly as he kept the news to himself, and he feared it might burst if he kept it in any longer.

"Something the matter?" Hermione asked, dabbing at the corners of her mouth. "You seem fidgety."

"Could I, um, see that picture of your parents?" he asked. Hermione's eyebrow rose questioningly, but she said nothing as she retrieved it from her purse. He carefully studied the woman in the photo, comparing her against his mental image of the woman who spoke to him in the cafe. It was the same person, though her hair was now longer. A triumphant smile lit his face. "I found her," he said, sliding the picture back to her.

"My mother? You...you found my mother?" she asked, not quite able to wrap her mind around his admission. Nodding, he explained the encounter while picking up dinner. "And you were able to perform the tracking charm?"

"Everything is in place," he told her. Reaching across the table, he took a firm hold of her hand. "This is good news, Hermione."

With her free hand, she wiped away the few tears that had begun to spill. "No, I know it is. It's just been so long since I've seen them. I'll have to reverse the charm and give them back their memories. We've spent so much time looking for them that I never stopped to think how they would react."

With a gentle tug on her hand, Hermione rose and moved over to Draco's lap. He kissed her temple, all the while holding her close. "They'll be happy that you're alive and well," he promised. "It might take them some time, but they'll understand that you did what was best for them. You protected them, love. You saved their lives. There was a plan to kill them in hopes of luring you out. Sending them away, erasing their memories, saved their lives."

It was the first she had heard of such a plan, but one that she had anticipated long before leaving her childhood home. It gave her a small amount of comfort to know that her actions protected her parents, and hopefully they would come to see it that way, too.

"Do you ever miss them? Your parents?" she wondered.

Draco shrugged as his arms tightened around her waist. "Not really," he replied, his voice devoid of any kind of emotion or feeling. "Holidays have passed, birthdays have gone by, but there's yet to be a time when I've wished they were here."

"Not even when Pippa was born?"

Draco vehemently shook his head. "Especially then. My mother knew when I left that I was meeting you. A month later, I received a letter from her asking when I planned to return home. I told her I wouldn't be coming back until we found your parents. I also mentioned that we were having a baby, and she wasn't happy. My mother has never been a fan of howlers, but the one I received, berating me for tainting the bloodlines, had my ears ringing for days."

"Do you ever wonder what'll happen when we return to England?" she asked, kissing his cheek.

"Sure, all the time," he replied. "Although, in each scenario, it ends up with my dangling from a tree by my ankles in the Weasleys' backyard."

Giggling, she told him, "I wouldn't let them keep you up there all day. Someone needs to handle those three in the morning nappy changes."

"Think you're funny, do you, Granger?" inquired, laughing along with her. He held her tight as she squirmed out of his grasp. It wasn't until he kissed her that her escape attempts ceased.

"You're vibrating, sweetheart," she informed him, murmuring against the softness of his lips.

Draco sobered quickly. "The tracking spell. It finally worked."


	6. Chapter 6

It's been a long day, and my boss and manager keep adding to my to-do list. In fact, they've interrupted the cupcake eating portion of my day. It's not everyday someone gives me a delicious, gluten-free cupcake. But notice that I still find time to post a new chapter!

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><p>Chapter 6<br>They stood outside of a one family, ranch style home. Flowers lined the cobblestone front path, dividing the front lawn in half. The house was a pale shade of yellow with red shudders and a matching door. It was small, but to Hermione, it was more intimidating than the first time she entered the Hogwarts castle.

"How do we do this?" she wondered. Despite her nerves, she was glad to be holding Pippa as the little girl kept her hands occupied.

"I think we just knock," Draco replied, leading her up the front path. She shot him an incredulous look. "And if we need some kind of cover story, leave it to me. I _was_ in Slytherin after all."

"Really? I'd forgotten all about that," she facetiously commented.

Ignoring her remark, he led her up to the front porch and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. "You have everything, right?" Hermione nodded just as the door opened.

A man, just a few inches shorter than Draco, answered the door. In his hand were a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that he cleaned on his shirt tail. "May I help you?" he asked, setting them back into place.

"Hi, we're new to the neighborhood, and thought we'd introduce ourselves," Draco greeted him, extending his hand for a shake. Draco made the introductions as Wendell Wilkins warily shook his hand.

"Well, um, my wife is around her somewhere," Wendell replied uncertainly, as if debating whether or not to let total strangers into his home. A curious voice asked who was at the door before Monica joined her husband.

"Oh, Darren, right? With the cute baby girl," she greeted them with more enthusiasm than necessary.

"Drake," Draco corrected her as she let them in. "Was she always this cheerful?" he asked Hermione, keeping his voice low so only she would hear.

"She was the mum who cried and cheered louder than any other parent at my kindergarten graduation," Hermione replied. They were led to the family room as Monica excused herself to make tea.

"You two look young to have a baby," Wendell commented when he was alone with the small family. When the only response was the blush that filled Hermione's cheeks, he moved on. "You said your name is Hermione? Unusual name, isn't it. My wife always said that if we'd had a daughter, she would name her Hermione."

"My parents loved Shakespeare," she replied.

Monica soon joined them, chastising her husband for giving them a hard time. "I wasn't," he argued.

Hermione looked to Draco, silently questioning if the time was right to reverse the charm. He gave a small nod and took Pippa from her arms. With her hands now free, Hermione dug into her purse and pulled out two small vials that fit in the palm of her hand. As her mother poured the tea, Hermione uncorked the first vial. A transparent mist floated about the room until it reached Wendell. Then she did the same with the second, releasing her mother's memories.

"_Finite_," she heard Draco whisper as he reversed the memory replacement spell.

"Her...Hermione?" Hermione shifted to the edge of her seat as her mother, once again Helen Granger, stared at her with wide brown eyes. "But...where are we? How did we get here? The last thing I remember is calling you to tea. This isn't our home."

Standing up, she moved closer to her parents. "I swear I'll explain everything, but I'm just so happy to see you again," she told them, hugging her mother as tears began to fall. Helen held her loosely, as if unsure of how to act around her child.

"I'd really like an explanation. Now," Henry Granger stated. Pulling away, Hermione took a seat beside Draco once more. The expressions on her parents' faces grew graver and graver the deeper she got into her story. She told them everything - her plan to protect them, her year on the run, the events at Malfoy Manor, the battle, and finally her relationship with Draco that began just before she left to find them.

"You're that boy, the one who teased Hermione in school," Helen realized. "I remember you did something to her to damage her teeth."

"Mum, that was a long time ago," Hermione argued. She glanced at her fiance and noticed the guilty expression he wore. Her eyes softened at the mere sight of him holding their daughter, and she placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Draco's changed. Our world has changed."

"_Your_ world," her father corrected. "Your world, his world, but not our world."

"There was an attack planned on your family," Draco stated, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "You'd both be dead right now if it hadn't been for Hermione. I believe the proper response would be thank you."

Henry scoffed. "Thank you? Did it never occur to you that there may be options beyond using magic on your parents?" he inquired, his voice rising dangerously.

It had been in her mind to send them to the Weasleys, but with the constant threat of attack against the family, adding two more people would not have been prudent. "It was the only way, Dad," she replied, imploring him to see her reasoning. "I had a job to do in helping Harry, and I wouldn't have been able to do it well if I spent my time worrying that something would happen to the both of you. This was the simplest solution I could come up with. I'm sorry for what I've done, but I thought I was doing the right thing."

Henry rose from the sofa across from them and walked out of the room. Before he left, though, he stopped and turned to his daughter. "The right thing would have been to never get involved in that world to begin with."

Hermione turned to her mother with pleading, tear-filled eyes. Helen sat stoically as she watched the exchange between father and daughter, but now Hermione hoped to find an ally in her. She, too, rose from the couch, but couldn't seem to make eye contact.

"I understand that you truly believed you were doing the right thing," she told her, speaking carefully. "Forgive us for not agreeing. Now, I think it's time you left."

"Mum," Hermione cried, getting to her feet.

"Goodbye, Hermione." And then, like her father, her mother was gone too.

Wiping furiously at the tears on her face, Hermione turned to Draco. "Can we go home now?" she asked.

Nodding, Draco stood up, careful not to wake Pippa. Thankfully, the baby had managed to sleep through the entire argument. "Sure, we'll go back to the hotel, run a bath, put the baby to bed."

But Hermione had other plans. "No, I mean go home. To England."


	7. Chapter 7

Here's a new chapter before the weekend begins! I had really grand intentions of doing nothing today at work since it's Friday and my boss and manager are both out. Doesn't it always seem to be those days when you get swamped with work? Anyhow, I know I've mentioned that I'm working on something new. I plan to start posting next week, so keep an eye out for it!

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><p>Chapter 7<br>"They'll come around," Draco assured her as he watched Hermione haphazardly pack their belongings. Angrily, she threw in his pants and shirts before stuffing a pair of shoes in with them. He pulled out the shoes, then the shirts and pants to fold them. "Hermione, please."

"Please what, Draco?" she inquired, blowing a wisp of curly hair away from her right eye. "Please go crawling back to my parents so they can kick me a little more? Please look at things from a different perspective? What is it you want me to do? They made it pretty clear that they want nothing to do with me right now, so there's no point in staying here."

"And when they do finally come around, you won't be here," he argued. "You'll be half a world away hiding from them."

She slammed the trunk shut. "I'm not hiding," she spat out, choosing to stand her ground rather than walk away from him. "I can't just sit around and wait for them to forgive me." Her resolve began to crumble once more, her voice wavering as she fought back another wave of tears.

Dropping the shirt he had been folding to the bed, he crossed the room and enveloped her in a hug. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "I'm so sorry you have to go through this. But you know you aren't alone; I'm here with you every step of the way."

Hermione pulled her hands away from her face and wound her arms around his waist. Her tears wet the front of his shirt, but Draco didn't seem to mind. "I'm the one who's sorry," she replied, hiccuping. "There's no one to blame but myself. I shouldn't have been cross with you."

"The only person to blame is You Know Who," he told her matter-of-factly. Lifting her chin so she would finally meet his eye, Draco leaned down and kissed her softly. "I love you," he murmured before kissing her once more.

Hermione turned her head away, shifting her gaze so their eyes couldn't meet. "Draco, I don't want to get married until things are right with my parents." She waited, anticipated the explosion. But it never came.

Instead, he agreed, making one amendment to her wish. "I'm willing to wait, but not forever. If they decide they won't be a part of your life, I want to be able to set a date."

"That seems fair," she replied.

"Things will get better," he assured her, brushing the back of his hand over her cheek.

"You always say that," she grumbled.

"And I'm always right."

Hermione's laughter turned to a groan. "Pippa's crying," she informed as Draco nuzzled her neck.

"Hmm, probably hungry," he murmured absentmindedly as he continued his task. His lips ghosted over a sensitive spot, eliciting a moan from the witch.

"More than likely she needs her nappy changed," Hermione replied, trying to keep her wits about her. As the cries intensified, Hermione pushed Draco off of her.

Groaning, he removed himself from the bed. Once he reached the door, he turned and asked, "How much longer do you plan to use the 'I carried her for nine months and then went through the pains of labor' as a means to get me to do all the diaper changes?"

Hermione smiled cheekily. "Until she's potty trained," she replied. Shaking his head, he exited the master bedroom. She heard his quiet, soothing murmurs as he tended to their baby girl. Pippa's cries subsided into soft whimpers as Draco reentered their bedroom. He handed the baby over to her mother and sat down on the side of the bed. "Where are we going to live?" Hermione wondered.

"Right, well, my mother wrote the other day," he explained, tracing circular patterns on her calf. "She wanted to know if we'd ever be coming home. At that time, I wasn't sure. Anyhow, she offered us the east wing of the Manor. I don't think she wants to be alone anymore."

Hermione cradled Pippa closer to her chest. "I can't live there," she told him, eyes widening as scenes of her capture replayed in her mind.

"I can't either," he confessed. Scenes of his own time there played behind his eyes - the first time he took an unforgivable curse, Voldemort's takeover of his familial home, the deaths and tortures that took place as they assembled around the dining room table, the drawing room. He shuddered at the last memory, the one of Hermione lying on the floor, bleeding onto a rug his mother prized above all other possessions. "Anyway, I told her it might be nice to have a smaller place, something more comfortable. The Manor is so cold and dreary. It's not the place I want Pip to grow up."

Hermione visibly relaxed; her shoulders releasing the tension they held. "Did you have any place in mind?" she inquired softly, so as not to disturb the now sleeping child in her arms.

Draco shrugged and reclined, propping himself up on his elbows. "Well, my family owns a few different properties, nice properties, but I didn't want to commit to anything without you. I also thought that we might want our own home, one free of Malfoy affiliations."

"You realize that so long as you're there, the house will be Malfoy affiliated," she teased. He watched her rise from the bed, careful not to wake Pippa. His eyes followed Hermione's form as she moved over to the bassinet in the corner and laid the baby down. When she turned back around, she caught his questioning gaze. "I like it better when she's close by," she offered, retaking her seat.

"What's that town where the Weasleys live?" he asked, turning onto to his side to look at her better.

Hermione fussed with a onesie, folding it and unfolding it before she put it back down. The subject of her friends was one they treaded carefully. The fight between Harry, Ron, and herself was still fresh in her mind, despite the amount of time that had passed. Hesitantly, she told Draco the name of the town.

"Have you heard from any of them?" he asked, adjusting his arm so it supported his head more comfortably.

She shook her head. "Well, Harry wrote once or twice, right around the time you arrived. He said if I just came back, we could work everything out," she explained, suddenly interested in her hands. "When I told him I wouldn't be returning, he offered to help. He said he was sure I needed him."

"Sure, who could live without the great Harry Potter?" Draco questioned derisively.

Scowling at her fiance, Hermione continued. "In that second letter, he also informed me that Ron was still quite angry with my behavior at the ball. They wanted to know what was going on between us. Apparently, it was reported in the _Prophet_ that the Malfoy heir fled England. While the rest of the wizarding world thought that you left in shame, it seems Harry and Ron deduced that you were joining me."

"So, you're mad that they were right?" he guessed, furrowing his light blond eyebrows.

"No, I'm mad that after that story was published, I never heard from them again," she corrected, her ire rising at the mere mention of her old friends. "I tried writing a few times, but neither of them replied."

Draco shifted up the bed until he sat by her side. He held her as she silently cried, whispering reassurances that everything would work out. "You still have me," he murmured. "You'll always have me."


	8. Chapter 8

I'm having one of those busy days, and if you ask what I'm doing I can't even find the words to tell you. It took me 4 tries to tell my coworker I was working on purchase orders. Yeah, I need a break. And by break I do mean post a new chapter!

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><p>Chapter 8<br>A week later, they were back in England. They portkeyed to her parents' home where they would stay until finding their own house. The place had lost that familiar smell, the one Hermione once loved to breath in deeply. Now the air smelled stale, and she began opening the windows. With each window, she reminded herself that their stay was only temporary. She wanted to be in this house almost as much as she wanted to be at Malfoy Manor. It would be awhile before her parents returned, reclaiming the house. But it would allow Draco and Hermione the opportunity to house hunt.

"I've been thinking," Hermione said casually, as she and Draco unpacked only the necessary essentials, "about having Harry and Ron, maybe Ginny, come over for dinner. Things need to be set right with them."

"When?" Draco asked, stocking the changing table they'd put in Hermione's childhood bedroom.

"Tonight maybe. We could get takeaway," she suggested.

His reply came flippantly, lacking any feeling on the matter. "Fine by me."

Pippa began to fuss, putting a momentary end to their conversation. Lifting her from the crib, Hermione carried her over to the rocking chair to be fed. The baby's contented gurgles and the closing of drawers were the only sounds produced in the room. When Pippa had had her fill, Hermione shifted her to her shoulder and patted her back. She rose from the chair, careful not to jostle her daughter too much, and approached Draco.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Draco faced her and kissed the back of Pippa's blonde head. "It's nothing, just concerned," he replied, though his tone softened.

"Concerned about what?" Hermione wondered.

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned away to fix the stack of nappies on the nearest shelf. "I worry that you'll get hurt," he said. "I know you're still reeling from the visit with your parents. I just don't want Potter and the Weasleys to further exacerbate things."

It would be a lie to say that she hadn't had the same thought. Harry and Ron were more stubborn than she and Draco combined, and even harder to sway. The trio had had their disputes throughout the years of their friendship, but never had they gone so long without speaking to her in some manner. She knew they hadn't taken kindly to the thought of Draco and herself being together. The actual practice would be even more viciously received.

When she offered no response, he continued, "You know what? Invite them over. I need to visit with my mother, anyhow."

"I'd rather you be here," she admitted, settling Pippa into his arms at his request. "It might do to have someone in my corner."

"Invite them first. No use getting ourselves crazy as they probably won't even come," he muttered.

And so, it came as quite a shock hours later when Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley stepped through the front door. Greetings were awkward, made worse by Draco's presence. It wasn't until they spotted Pippa that the tension eased.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Ginny gushed. She was seated on the sofa with the little girl cradled to her chest. Brown eyes followed the redhead as Pippa giggled each time she made a grab for the crimson strands.

"They say that at three months, their ability to see color begins to develop," Hermione informed them. "I think she's fascinated by the color of your hair. She likes Draco's too, but his isn't long enough to pull."

Harry cleared his throat; a sign he wanted to get down to business. "So, should we discuss the elephant in the room now, or wait until after dinner?" he inquired, his tone growing more impatient and irritated with each word he spoke. Neither Hermione nor Draco offered any explanation, and so Harry continued despite the glare his girlfriend shot him. "Before you left to find your parents, you said you planned to do it on your own, that you didn't need Ron and me. And now, a year later, you show up with Malfoy and a baby. We've been friends for close to ten years, Hermione, I think you owe me some sort of explanation."

Hermione's posture became ramrod straight as her friend glared harshly at her. Draco, who sat beside her, wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders. Decisions warred in her mind. She could tell him the truth, had to tell him the truth, but she knew it would spell the end of their friendship.

"Harry, you have to know that what I told you was the truth," she started, unable to meet his green eyes. "I had every intention of finding them myself. I didn't want to take you and Ron away from your training. But when I found out that I was pregnant a month into my trip, I sent for Draco. He had a right to know, and it was his decision to stay."

"So, he forced himself on you at the Ministry Ball, and now he's tricked you into his being a part of your life," Harry summarized.

Draco leapt out of his seat and reached Harry in two long strides. "You may have known Hermione longer, but you certainly don't know her better," he spoke through clenched teeth as he leaned over the raven-haired wizard. "And you certainly know nothing about me. Don't you think that if I'd done anything untoward to Hermione that I'd be six feet under right now?"

"Why didn't Ron come?" Hermione wanted to know.

Harry and Draco continued to stare down one another. "I'm looking at the reason right now. You should never have gone near Hermione in the first place," Harry stated. Draco straightened up and backed away from Harry. Ginny hissed his name admonishingly, but Harry pretended not to notice. He rose, staring down Draco as he did so, and turned to Ginny. "I think it's time we left."

Ginny, who was still holding Pippa, shook her head defiantly. "Hermione's my friend too. It's her life, her choices, and whatever they are I support her." Turning to her friend, she cast a friendly smile and received a grateful one in return. "You can go, Harry, but I'm staying for dinner because my friends invited me."

Harry's eyes moved between Ginny and Hermione, Hermione and Draco, Draco and Ginny. "Fine," he grumbled. He walked past them all and out the front door without another word.

With Harry gone, Draco finally relaxed, if only slightly. He moved back to his fiancee's side, surprised to see the stoic look on her face. He wondered if she was holding it in for Ginny's sake.

"He was angrier when I turned in his Firebolt to Professor McGonagall in third year," Hermione mused. She stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She returned minutes later with a bag of Chinese food, as plates and utensils floated in the air behind her.

Draco opened the bag and set out the containers. "I remember that," he said with a laugh. "I'm pretty sure he cried into his porridge the morning it was confiscated."

Ginny stood and passed Pippa to Draco. It wasn't until he left the room that the younger witch spoke. "He'll come around, Mione," she assured her. "Harry and Ron both will. Neither one of them is smart enough to get by without you. Besides, Draco doesn't seem so bad. And he loves you and Pippa right?"

"More than anything," Hermione beamed. "I honestly don't know if we'd be where we are now if we'd stayed here. Being with Draco in Australia changed everything for the better. He's kind and loving. I never thought I'd see the day when Draco Malfoy took care of me."

"Me neither," Ginny snorted just as Draco rejoined them. They ate quietly, an occasional question concerning their trip to Australia coming up from time to time. An hour later, Ginny begrudgingly left, promising to return the next day to watch Pippa while they found a house.

"She doesn't seem so bad," Draco commented as they readied themselves for bed. "I expected her to side with Potter."

"So did I," Hermione confessed, smoothing her nightgown down around her thighs. "I'm glad I've got her in our corner though. It'll make changing Ron's and Harry's minds a bit easier."

Draco moved around the foot of the bed until he reached Hermione. With her hands in his, he kissed her softly. "It'll happen," he promised.


	9. Chapter 9

I realized today that the file folders on my desk are Hogwarts colors - red,yellow, green, and blue. I may start organizing titles based on that. That could be a fun game.

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><p>Chapter 9<br>A week later a suitable house had been found. Despite Hermione's reservations about the property's lake, the three bedroom, two story home was an ideal place for the small family to settle down.

"No one does protective enchantments as well as you," Draco reminded Hermione as she again voiced concerns about the lake. "Besides, it'll be awhile before Pippy's walking and wandering away. A few charms around the edge of the lake, and everything will be fine."

"An age line perhaps," she agreed as they finished unpacking box after box of their belongings. "You know, I think it would be a lovely place to get married. Imagine how beautiful it would look at sunset."

Draco dropped what he was doing. "Wait, does this mean you're thinking about setting a date?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too anxious.

"Not yet," she replied, feeling guilty. It had been a month since they returned to England, and not a word had been spoken between parents and daughter. Despite Draco's willingness to wait, Hermione wondered just how long his patience would last.

"What time is Ginny coming back with the baby?" he asked, shrinking the last trunk down to fit in the back of the master bedroom's closet.

"Soon," Hermione replied. "Mrs. Weasley is bringing over dinner. I thought that would be alright since we haven't gotten to the grocer yet."

"It's fine," he stated. He moved over to stand by the bedroom window. From there he could see the backyard and the lake. Hermione was right; it would be the perfect place for a wedding. No, for _their_ wedding. Perhaps if they waited long enough Pippa could serve as flower girl. He smiled at the thought of his little girl tossing rose petals before her mother walked down the aisle.

"What's got you smiling?" she wondering, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

He maneuvered her around him so she stood with her back against his chest. "Just thinking," he told her as he held her close. "I think the yard would be a perfect place for a small wedding."

Hermione snorted. "Who would we invite anyway?"

"Just because Harry and Ron aren't speaking to you right now doesn't mean the rest of that family plans to ignore you," he told her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Ginny and Mrs. Weasley have watched Pippa while we've been busy. The twins helped move the boxes. The two older ones whose names I can't remember helped with the furniture. And I don't think any of them did it because of some great desire to be closer to me. That family loves you like you're one of their own. Hell, Mr. Weasley was trying to get Pippa to call him grandpa yesterday."

Hermione laughed as she remembered Arthur Weasley's antics. While they were still somewhat wary of Draco, the Weasleys had quickly accepted Pippa as a member of their family. They doted on the little girl, and more than once argued over who would hold her, feed her, put her down for a nap. It was more than Hermione could have asked for, but she had hoped it would be her parents Pippa would call grandma and grandpa.

"Does it bother you that the Molly and Arthur are more like grandparents than our own parents?" Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. "The way I see it I'd rather she have them than people who are cold and prejudiced, like my parents are. Or people who are too stubborn to accept what's happened, like your parents. My mum is trying, I know she is. I think she wants to see past blood status and the unorthodox path we chose, but it's difficult for her. At least Pip will never have to deal with Lucius."

Hermione shuddered at the mention of that name. Lucius Malfoy had haunted her dreams many a night, especially after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. That had been the first time she had laid eyes on Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who tortured her in the Malfoys' home. Most of her nightmares centered around the dangerous pair.

"Someone's here," Hermione realized before she could dwell on her thoughts any longer. A second later they heard a knock at the front door and broke apart. Draco made it to the door first, Hermione on his heels, and opened it to reveal Mrs. Weasley. Behind her stood a tall man with red hair, his back to them. Draco welcomed her in, taking his daughter from her arms.

"Oh, the house looks lovely, dears," she complimented as they made their way into the living room.

"Who was with you?" Draco asked when Hermione left to make tea.

Mrs. Weasley glanced at him as if she hadn't a clue in the world as to what he was referring. "Oh, nothing to worry about," she assured him. "He'll come in when he's ready."

Hermione returned minutes later with the tea service, and asked for a full report on the day's events. As Molly spoke animatedly, Hermione's eyes wandered to the front walk, which she had a clear view of from the living room window. The stranger was tall and lanky with the familiar red hair of a Weasley. She wondered which member of the family was lurking outside of her house and why he didn't join his mother.

"She's becoming so curious," Mrs. Weasley gushed. "Why, when I was holding her, George came in and sat down beside me. He had a plate in his hands, and sweet little Pippa just reached out and stuck her hand in his mashed potatoes. Well, we had quite a laugh over that!"

Draco couldn't help but chuckle as he listened, but he noticed Hermione had been unusually silent. Clearly, she had spotted their surprise visitor and was attempting to work out his identity. He spoke her name softly to get her attention.

Hermione's head whipped around, curls flying as she did so. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," she apologized. "What were you saying, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Nothing to be sorry for, Hermione," Molly replied in her usually good natured way. "Now, I've brought you some supper. I'll heat it for you before I leave. Just some shepards pie I made while Pippa was napping. You know, I don't think any of my children napped as well as she does." Molly excused herself and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner for the couple.

"She's too good to us," Hermione commented, her eyes returning to the front yard.

"Yeah, do you think she'd adopt me?" Draco joked. He too looked outside. "Which Weasley do you think he is?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, but I intend to find out," she decided. Turning right at the edge of the living room, she pulled open the front door. "May I help you?" she inquired.

Turning around, the nervous redhead rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, Mione. Can we talk?" Ron Weasley asked.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
>Hermione stared with widened eyes as Ron walked through her front door. Spotting Draco not far from them, Ron gave him a stiff nod and continued on through the house as if he knew where to go. He reached the kitchen with Hermione behind him.<p>

"Hi, Mum. Smells good," he told his mother. Wordlessly, Molly kissed them both goodbye and left them alone as the pair sat down. "Um, so Harry and I aren't speaking right now. Every time he's been mad at you, I've been on his side. I never thought to look at things from your point of view. I worshipped him when we were kids. He was such a hero, a legend, in our world, and he picked me as his best friend. It kind of does something to your head."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione wondered, trying not to let her impatience show.

Ron sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck again. "Because I want you to know I'm not taking his side this time, Mione."

Pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and index finger, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. His words confused her. He wouldn't take Harry's side, but that didn't mean he had forgiven her. Then, she wondered why she _needed_ his forgiveness. None of her actions had been particularly wrong. Her relationship with Ron had ended weeks before the Ministry Ball.

"I don't know if I'll ever like Malfoy," Ron continued, unsure if she was actually listening to him or not. "He was always such a slimy little git when we were kids, but maybe he's changed for you. The _Prophet_ ran an article saying that he was just using you to restore his family's name. I don't know if it's true. For your sake, I don't want it to be true."

Hermione listened with rapt attention. Ron was the last person she expected to be sympathetic to her situation. As children, he had always been quick to jump to conclusions without knowing the facts. Perhaps the years had matured him as much as the rest of them.

"It's not true," she told him adamantly.

Ron nodded. "Good," he replied. "You know I'll kill him if he does anything to hurt you or the baby," he added with a small measure of humor.

Hermione laughed softly. "Yeah, Ron, I know you will."

Ron stood nervously and looked at her. "You know I just want you to be happy. Ginny told us about the situation with your parents. If Malfoy makes you happy, then I'm glad," he told her.

"He really does," she affirmed.

"So, can we be friends again?" he asked.

Hermione rose and moved around the table to embrace him. "I'd really like that," she murmured, feeling familiar arms encircle her once more. "Hey Ron, do you think you could do me a favor?"

They pulled away, but Ron held her hands in his own. "What is it?" he asked, knitting together his eyebrows.

"Talk to Harry for me," was her request.

He cast a smile at his friend. "I'll try. I don't know that he'll listen, but I'll try," he promised, letting go of her hands as the kitchen door swung open. "You know, sometimes I wonder how we all stayed friends, the three of us being as stubborn as we are. It's a miracle we never killed each other."

Draco, who had just entered the kitchen, laughed. "Funny how a few years ago I longed for that," he said, receiving a leveling gaze from Hermione.

"And now?" Ron asked.

Draco shrugged as he opened the ice box to retrieve a bottle for Pippa. He warmed it and took a seat to feed her. "Now? Well, now I want to pummel Potter for different reasons. Hermione I'll keep. And since she was smiling when I came in, I guess you're okay."

Ron smiled as he looked from Draco to Hermione, who continued frowning at her fiance. "Ginny told Mum and me what Harry said at that dinner," Ron told them. "I never thought I'd say this, Malfoy, but I don't think I'd stop you if you did hit him."

Now, Hermione turned her scowl on him. "That's an awful thing to say," she chastised. "No one will be hitting Harry under any circumstances. Is that understood?" She glanced at both men and received reluctant nods in return.

"Now that that's settled, is it dinnertime?" Draco inquired. He remained seated as he continued to feed the baby, but his eyes followed Hermione around the kitchen as she pulled out plates and utensils. Once the table was set, she retrieved their dinner from the oven. When her bottle was empty, Draco lifted Pippa to his shoulder and patted her back as Hermione doled out two portions from the casserole dish. "Ron, will you be joining us?" he asked the still standing redhead.

Ron looked at him, his eyes widening at the shock of being invited to dinner by Draco Malfoy. "Are you sure?" he asked, hesitant to sit.

Draco nodded and moved Pippa to her bouncer. "Sure, your mum cooked enough for ten people. There's plenty," he replied.

Ron glanced at Hermione, who enthusiastically agreed with a nod of her head. She grabbed another plate and heaped a generous portion onto it for him. "So, Ron," she said as they began to eat, "what's been going on with you? Work is going well? Any new witches in your life?"

"Hermione," he groaned, "you sound like Mum. I swear she's trying to force us all to get married and give her grandchildren. And I'm blaming you for that, by the way. You wave that little girl under Mum's nose, and it makes her want another baby. And since she can't have them, she wants the rest of us to do it for her. Except Ginny, though I'm not sure why."

Draco snorted as he listened. "I may not have as much experience as a parent as your mother, but I can tell you that that lake will come in handy the day Pippa announces she pregnant, if you know what I mean."

"Planning to drown the boy she brings home, love?" Hermione inquired.

Draco nodded. "That's exactly what I plan to do," he replied. "No man will ever touch my daughter."

"Thank goodness my parents didn't react that way to you." Hermione released a sarcastic sigh of relief.

Ron's head shot up at the mention of her parents. "Um, Mione, something came to the Burrow for you," he told her cautiously, pulling a white envelope from his back pocket.


	11. Chapter 11

I saw _Harry Potter_ today! How awesome is Neville? I won't ruin anything for those of you who haven't seen it yet, but the tears just kept flowing. Go see it if you haven't already!

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><p>Chapter 11<br>Hours later, long after Ron had left, the kitchen was cleaned up, and Pippa was put to bed, Hermione opened the letter Ron had given her. Locked in the bathroom for privacy, Hermione studied the steady scrawl that she knew belonged to her mother. As a little girl, she longed to write as beautifully as her mother. For hours she would trace the elegant lines and curves of each letter until she too could write as well.

Now, as an adult, the script scared her. A month after they had last seen each other, Helen Granger was writing. But what could it be about? What could she possibly have to say now that she hadn't said when they last saw one another? Unable to wait any longer, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter. Her eyes swiftly scanned each line. There were apologies and pleas for her to see the situation from their viewpoint. There were promises that she would try to understand her only daughter's reasoning.

And then came the last line - she would be returning to England in two days' time.

Hermione read the letter over three times, noting that not once did her mother mention her father's return. Maybe he wouldn't come home, she thought. Perhaps he was still too angry with her to be in the same country. Tears rose to her eyes as she crumpled up the letter.

Draco stood on the other side of the bathroom door when she exited. Despite her attempt to brush past him, he caught her wrist. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied, trying to to pull away.

"You're crying. You wouldn't be crying if it were nothing," he stated, pulling her closer. His free hand founds its way to her right cheek. His thumb brushed away the tracks of tears that continued to fall. "You've been locked in there for fifteen minutes. We're not, um, ya know, having another baby, are we?"

Hermione shook her head and held up the letter from her mother. His hands fell away from her as he took it and began to read. "It's what you wanted," he said, folding it in half when he was finished. "They're coming home."

"Not they," she spat angrily. "Just her. Just my mother. My father hates me that much that he won't return to his own home with his wife."

Not knowing what to say, he pulled her into a tight embrace, one that Hermione didn't fight. He murmured an apology as she cried against his chest. It wasn't hard for him to understand how she felt. After all, his own father was removed from his life because of the war. Though life in prison hadn't been Lucius's choice, his actions and deeds led him there. Draco would live the rest of his life without a father, but there was always hope that Hermione's father would return.

"You said this would work out," she mumbled against the fabric of his shirt. "You said they would come home and things would be fine." Her words were a mix of grief and accusation, but Draco let it go.

"Love, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he cautioned. "Wait until your mum comes back. Maybe there's a perfectly good reason he isn't coming with her."

Hermione finally managed to free herself from his arms. She sunk down on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Yeah, the reason is he hates me."

Shaking his head, he sat down beside her. "No one could hate you."

Hermione scoffed and shot him an incredulous look. "I seem to recall you hating me for seven years," she reminded him.

An embarrassed blush crept up his neck. There was no use denying her accusation; the whole of the wizarding world knew it had been true. But it hadn't been a hatred of her personally. He was indoctrinated at a young age to hate anyone who didn't come from a pureblood family, and Hermione Granger did not. His feelings toward her bordered more on envy than hate. She was the smartest in the year, possibly the whole school, and it bothered him. Oftentimes, when he returned home for holidays, his father spoke of his disappointment that a mudblood had bested him in every subject. A half blood, and the bane of the Dark Lord's existence, bested him in Quidditch. And the blood traitor was, well, just that. He was never given a reason to like the Golden Trio, and so he didn't.

"I love you now if that counts for anything," he told her, massaging the back the neck.

She leaned into his side, resting her head against his bicep. "It helps," she replied. Pretending to be offended by her response, Draco moved his shoulder, which effectively dislodged her head. "You know I love you too," she added, rubbing the side of her head.

"It's still nice to hear every once in a while," he retorted.

Taking his hands in her own, Hermione levelled him with a serious look. "Draco Malfoy, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything in my entire life. You're not the boy I grew up with. You were there for me when no one else was. You became my best friend. You gave me Pippa. How could I not love you?"

His only response was a simple kiss. The soft kiss deepened as Draco lay her on her back. His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw until he worked a line of kisses to her ear. His breath ghosted over her skin, sending a chill down her spine. "I know the one thing you love more than me," he murmured. Hermione's brows furrowed as she wondered what he could possibly be thinking. Instead of answering, his lips moved again to suck on her pulse, eliciting a moan from the woman beneath him. "That rare, firsthand edition of Hogwarts: A History we found in Australia," he finally told her.

Moving her hands to his face, Hermione maneuvered Draco's head away from her neck. "You're wrong," she informed him. She brushed her lips across his once before looking him in the eye again. "There is no book in all the world that I could love more than you and Pippa."

She released his face and embraced him tightly. "I've been thinking," she continued. "I know it was my idea to wait until things are fixed with my parents. My mum seems receptive enough to hear me out, but if things don't go well with my father, then I want to set a date."


	12. Chapter 12

I meant to post this earlier in the day, but my boss insisted on giving me projects to work on. Oh, and she did that thing where she leans over my shoulder and watches me do it. On the upside, my coworker made gluten free brownies and gave the leftovers to me. That's dinner!

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><p>Chapter 12<br>"Hermione, whose pants are you wearing?" Ginny asked, laughing as she flipped through a photo album of their trip to Australia. The youngest Weasley had been invited over to keep an eye on the baby while Hermione's mother visited.

Hermione leaned over to get a better look at the picture. In it she was six months pregnant and wearing pants that were cuffed three or four times to allow her movement. "Draco's," she replied. "His were the only pants that would fit. I was a bit in denial about the idea of maternity wear."

Ginny continued to laugh as Hermione answered the knock at the front door. Seconds later, she returned to the living room with her mother in tow. The merriment ceased when Ginny spotted the Granger women, both of whom wore solemn expressions. She easily rose from the couch with Pippa still her arms. "I'll take her to the nursery," she told Hermione, flashing her friend a compassionate smile. Draco entered just as Ginny left, looking curiously at the redhead then at his fiancee. But all became clear when he spotted Mrs. Granger poised nervously on the edge of the sofa. Hermione sat in the armchair adjacent to her with Draco perched on the armrest. True to form, Hermione wasted no time in getting down to business.

"Where's Dad?" she inquired, her tone stoic.

"He's staying in Australia for the time being," Helen Granger responded automatically.

"Does he plan to come home?" she asked.

Helen watched her daughter maintain her calm composure as tears welled in her own brown eyes. "I don't know," she answered, blinking rapidly. Draco handed her a tissue, which she gratefully accepted.

Hermione's resolve began to crack. "What's going on, Mum?"

As hard as she tried, Helen Granger was unable to hold it together much longer. "We've, um, your father and I are...we've separated," she stated, stumbling over her words.

Hermione's eyes widened momentarily and her mouth thinned into a line. She rose from her chair, shaking Draco's arm off of her shoulders. "Excuse me," she mumbled. Then she exited the living room and calmly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

The remaining two sat in silence. Draco wanted to offer some kind word, but nothing would come. Several times his mouth opened, but closed quickly when no sound was produced. There had been times as a child that he wished his own parents would separate. Many a night, he was kept awake by their arguing. But it was against the pureblood codes of society to divorce, and so Lucius and Narcissa stayed together. From Hermione's own accounts, her parents were nothing like that. They loved not only her unconditionally, but each other as well.

Finally he decided on the only appropriate words he could find. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger."

She nodded and cast a sad smile his way. "Helen, it's Helen, please," she replied. "You love her, right? You really love Hermione?"

"I really do," he said. "I don't know what she told you about me when we were in school. I'm sure it was all true. But the thing about Hermione is she's the most loyal and loving person I've ever met. She was hurting really badly when we left Australia. I think she just wants her family back."

"Let her know that I'm not going anywhere," she requested, getting to her feet.

Draco, too, rose from his seat and followed her to the front door. "I thought you said you weren't going anywhere," he commented as she turned the doorknob.

The contradiction between statement and action was not lost on Helen, and for the first time, a genuine smile touched her lips. It was a smile that reminded him so much of Hermione. "I know what I said," she replied. "But I think she needs a little time to process things. I think she needs you, Draco."

He nodded, extending an open invitation to his soon-to-be mother-in-law before seeing her out. When she disappeared around the corner, Draco turned on his heel and headed for the nursery. It was the one place in the house Hermione went to seek comfort. Pippa's mere presence had a calming effect on all who spent time with her, and Draco knew that was what Hermione needed in that moment. Just outside the closed nursery door, he spotted Ginny waiting for him.

"She's in there," the redhead confirmed. Draco reached for the doorknob, but Ginny stopped him. "Wait, what are you planning to say to her?"

A shrug answered her question, and Ginny sighed in annoyance. "I probably don't have to say much," Draco told her. "You know Granger. If she wants to talk, she'll talk and I'll listen. And if she doesn't want to talk, the only sounds in that room will be Pippa's."

There was no use in arguing with his logic. Close to ten years of friendship had taught the youngest Weasley that Hermione's mood would dictate the tone of any conversation. "I guess you're right," she conceded.

His hand made another move to open the door, but then he stopped. "Ginny, thanks," he said, sincerity sparkling in his eyes. She stared at him with shocked, wide eyes, but managed to keep her jaw from dropping. "I mean it. You've stuck by her since we returned. It's good to know that not all of her friends turned their back on her because of...well you know." It went without saying that he was referring to their relationship.

Finally finding her voice, she smiled and patted his arm. "You're welcome, Draco."

He watched her leave as he entered the nursery. Hermione was seated in the rocking chair near the window with their daughter cradled in her arms. Pippa seemed to be asleep, but Draco wondered if perhaps she too had picked up on Hermione's mood and chose to be quiet. He rounded the chair and sat down on the foot rest.

"Hi," she said quietly. He returned her greeting just as quietly and rested a hand on her knee. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's fine," he assured her. "Is she asleep?"

Hermione nodded. "Do you think there will ever come a day when watching her sleep isn't fascinating?" she wondered, looking down in awe at the child in her arms.

"I hope not," he murmured.

Hermione rose from her seat as carefully as possible. Pippa whined softly, but continued to sleep as she was put to bed. With her task complete, Hermione gestured for Draco to leave the nursery with her. Their bedroom was across the hall, and the pair remained silent until the door was shut. Hermione sat down on her side of the bed and began to fold clean laundry.

"What if it's my fault?" she asked.

Draco sat in front of her, pushed the laundry basket away, and removed the blouse in her hands. "It isn't," he told her.

She reached for the blouse again, complaining that he was wrinkling it, but Draco held it out of her reach. Huffing, she gave up their little game of tug of war. "If I hadn't changed their memories and sent them off," she started.

But Draco immediately cut her off. "Then they would be dead right now," he countered. "Which is worse - your parents' death or their separation?"

Neither option appealed to her, and so she gave no reply. "Is this the way you would react if it were us?" she asked, unable to look at him. "If it were our daughter going off to fight a war and she did the same thing to protect us, would you react the way my father did?"

Draco shook his head and took hold of her hand. "It's different," he replied. "Your parents knew nothing of the magical world when you entered it. They didn't know about the prejudice and madmen hell bent on eradicating it of your kind. There was no way they would have been able to protect themselves, and you knew that. The war we fought...because of it, Pippa will never have to face any of that. She's never going to have to worry about Dark Lords or going into hiding because of her blood status. You made that possible."

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out, fingering the Malfoy crest he wore on his right pinky.

Draco sighed. "No, Hermione, I wouldn't."


	13. Chapter 13

Today, I had a two hour long meeting about color. While this might sound like a great way to spend two hours, let me assure you it isn't. We spent twenty minutes discussing the color red.

Anyhow, since I finished writing this story, I've decided I may post the rest of it today and tomorrow. After this chapter, there are two more and an epilogue. Keep a look out!

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><p>Chapter 13<br>Hermione had just put the kettle on for afternoon tea when the floo activated. Knowing who it was stepping out of her fireplace made her heart race. Draco led his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, into the kitchen.

"Mother, you remember Hermione Granger I assume," he said, making the introductions between his mother and fiancee.

"It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione greeted her.

Narcissa nodded and offered her a polite smile. "It's been awhile," she replied. "I believe I have a granddaughter I need to meet."

"She's napping, Mother," Draco informed her as the kettle whistled. He stepped around his mother and kissed Hermione's cheek before pulling three teacups from the cabinet near the stove. "Have you spoken with Father lately?" he asked, preparing the tea.

"We've written, but they rarely allow visitors at the prison," Narcissa replied calmly as she took a seat. "He's expressed his desire to hear from you, Draco."

Draco set the cups on the table and took a seat beside Hermione. "Why?" he wondered, angered by the mention of his father. "Does he know about our daughter? Is he hoping he can dissuade me from marrying Hermione?"

"Draco, darling, I did not come here to argue with you," Narcissa said, her voice remaining calm and even. "I have no intentions of changing your mind. Merlin knows just how impossibly stubborn you are. You and Ms. Granger have made your choices, and so long as you are happy, I won't interfere."

Pushing his chair back, Draco rose and shook his head disbelievingly. "I'm going to check on Pippa," he announced. Hermione reached for his arm, a silent plea to stay. Instead he shook her hand away and exited the kitchen.

The tension between the two witches was palpable. Both took to diverting their gazes and sipping their tea. Finally, after a few minutes had passed, Narcissa cleared her throat. "I know what Draco fears," she stated, causing Hermione to snap to attention. "Lucius wasn't a terrible father. He was misguided by generations of Pureblood mania, as was I. Every parent hopes their child will be better than they are, and Draco has already proven that he is."

Hermione delicately set her cup down on the table. "I know he worries that he'll be like his father," she agreed, carefully choosing her words so as not to insult his mother. "Was Mr. Malfoy...was it always the way Draco described?"

Narcissa shook her head slowly, careful not to dislodge a single strand of her blonde hair. "No," she replied. "Lucius loved Draco. There were nights I would awaken to an empty bed and find him in the nursery. He would watch Draco sleep or give him his feedings. There was always a look of awe in my husband's eye when he was around our son.

"But as Draco grew up, he became more and more spoiled," she continued. "Oh, the temper tantrums he would throw, often in public, when he didn't get his way. Lucius became very short with him, resorting to disciplines his own father had used on him as a boy. It seemed to work, but Draco became withdrawn. He would flinch whenever his father entered a room and pulled out his wand. It wasn't admiration, but fear that made my son obey."

Silence pervaded the room once more as each woman dried her tears. Minutes later, Draco returned with Pippa in his arms. "What's going on?" he demanded, looking from his mother to Hermione for answers.

Hermione rose from the table to prepare a bottle for the baby. "We were just talking," she told him softly. "Perhaps your mum would like to feed her."

Narcissa looked expectantly at her son. "I would like that," she told him as she got to her feet. Deciding there was no more need for discussion, Hermione led Narcissa to the living room. Draco slowly followed behind, unwilling to hand his child over to his mother. He noticed the anticipatory expression his mother wore, as well as his fiancee's look of impatience. Begrudgingly, he settled his daughter in his mother's arms, cautioning her to be careful.

He watched like a hawk as Pippa rested in her grandmother's arms, content to be fed. Her small fist caught Narcissa's long hair and tugged. Draco smothered a laugh at his mother's shocked pain.

"Sorry, she's been doing that a lot lately," Hermione told her, pulling her daughter's fist from the long locks.

"She has quite a grip," Narcissa commented, righting the bottle between the little girl's lips. "Draco was forever grabbing at things. Why I remember the time he stole his grandmother's crystal swan. He must have been only two or three at the time."

Hermione laughed. "Let's hope that trait is recessive," she replied, smiling at her fiance. But Draco was less than amused. Without a word, he pulled Hermione to the foyer to speak privately. "What's the matter with you?" she hissed.

"I don't want her here any longer," Draco stated, folding his arms over his chest. "You may think she's being nice, but every little thing will get back to Lucius. And once he gets out, he'll..." His face paled beyond normal as words stopped forming.

Hermione stepped closer to him, cupping his face between her palms. "Nothing's going to happen, sweetheart," she assured him. "It'll be years before your father is even eligible for parole, and there's still a chance that won't be granted. He can't hurt us."

Grasping her wrists, he pulled her hands away from his face. "Don't you see? He already has," he muttered before turning on his heel to retreat to the master bedroom.

Hermione wandered back into the living room, dumbfounded. His words played through her mind, but they never made sense. What had Lucius done to them? Why did Draco seem so afraid? A hand gently touched her wrist, snapping her out of her thoughts. "You heard," she guessed, glancing briefly at Narcissa.

The blonde nodded her head sadly. "It was easier for him to pretend things were alright when he didn't actually have to see us," she said, as if reading Hermione's thoughts. "Letters and the occasional floo call were harmless. I've not told my husband anything of the life you and Draco have together. I too worry what he is capable of, and I do not wish to see my son harmed."

Hermione placed her hand over Narcissa's, which still rested on her wrist. "I don't either."


	14. Chapter 14

While I wait for my laundry to finish, I thought I'd give you all a second chapter!

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><p>Chapter 14<br>Hermione awoke to the sound of Pippa's cries and an empty bed. Pushing back the blankets, she left her bedroom and entered the nursery across the small hallway. She expected to find Draco there already, but Pippa's intensifying cries told her he wasn't there. "Shh, shh, it's alright, sweet pea," she murmured, rubbing her daughter's back as she carried her to the rocking chair near the window. A bit of wandless magic summoned a bottle and warmed it. She held the tip to her baby's lips, and watched as she calmed down. "That's it, all calm," she soothed.

Pippa sighed contently as she finished the bottle and closed her sparkling brown eyes. One fist held tightly to the sleeve of her mother's nightgown. Hermione waited until her little girl was asleep to remove the tiny fingers that held so tightly to her. Kissing Pippa's forehead, she laid the baby back in the crib.

Unable to go back to sleep herself, Hermione wandered downstairs to the dark living room. Not until she turned on the light did she see Draco. He sat, elbows resting on his thighs, staring straight ahead. He paid no attention to her when she illuminated the room, and he still gave no response when she sat down beside him.

"Talk to me," she pleaded, turning his chin in her direction. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. "Draco, please say something."

He merely turned his head away from her, looked at the wall in front of him, and sighed. Then he stood and moved to the mantle. His hand moved alone the stone until he reached a framed photograph of Pippa the day she came home from the hospital. She was small and pink and perfect with her wispy blonde hair and eyes still identical to those of her father. A pained smile reached his lips before he turned his back on the photos.

Hermione rose and came to stand before him. "Draco, you're starting to frighten me," she told him.

And for the first time, he saw her. He felt her hands grip his. He heard the sniffle that proceeded the sob. "I'm sorry," he murmured, hanging his head.

Relieved that he finally spoke, but terrified by his apology, she asked, "What for?"

He pulled his hands out of hers and sunk down to the floor, leaning against the side of the fireplace. "I thought I could handle it, seeing her again," he said, staring down at his hands. "But then all the memories of my childhood came rushing back. She never stopped him, you know. She watched as he used the Cruciatus curse on me, and she didn't stop him."

Hermione sat down beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Rarely did he speak of his experiences growing up with Lucius and Narcissa, choosing instead to remain stoic. To have him in her arms as tears slid down his cheeks scared her more than anything. She truly understood now what he meant earlier. Lucius had managed to get to him without uttering a single word. The mere thought of him had crumbled the strong facade Draco had so carefully built.

"He can't hurt you anymore," she said again and again; her new mantra.

"I want you to make me a promise," he said, turning his head to look at her. The pain in her eyes mirrored his own, and he truly felt guilty for what he was about to ask. "The first time I do anything to hurt you or the baby, I want you to take her and get as far from me as you can."

"Draco, I-" she stuttered, unsure that she had heard his plea correctly.

He shook his head, cutting her off. "I don't want my child to fear her father the way I did."

"You won't hurt us, Draco," she replied, trying to remain calm despite her heavily beating heart. "You're not him. Unlike your father, you learned from his actions. I don't honestly believe you would do anything to harm us."

He wanted to believe as much as she did, but images of childhood flashed through his mind. Spilled pumpkin juice on the sitting room rug had earned him his first slap when he was four years old. At seven, he felt the bite of his father's cane for getting into Lucius's wardrobe. The Cruciatus came five years later and became the punishment of choice no matter what Draco had done.

"You should get your rest," he said, no longer wanting to discuss the matter. He felt embarrassed by his break down, and didn't want Hermione to see it any longer. "You're seeing your mum in the morning, right?"

"I can cancel if you need me," she offered.

Draco shook his head and got to his feet, leaving Hermione on the floor. "No, you should go," he said. He wiped away the last of his tears before helping her to her feet. They held each other tightly, unsure which one was providing the comfort they both so desperately sought at that moment.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too," he replied.

Later that morning after a fitful night's sleep, Hermione Apparated to her mother's house alone. There would be no buffer in the form of Draco or Pippa; she would have to face her mother on her own.

"No Draco?" her mother asked, ushering her into her childhood home. "How's the baby? She must be getting so big. You grew quite fast at that age. Clothes never fit you for very long."

Hermione became flustered as she listened to her mother's whirlwind barrage of questions and comments. A nervous Helen Granger was a chatty Helen Granger, and the best way Hermione could think to halt her thoughts was to ask, "Have you heard from Dad?"

Helen abruptly stopped speaking and sat down on the sofa. "No," she said solemnly. "Hermione, I want you to know that I'm sorry. No parent wants to hear that their child fought in a war they knew nothing about. We all believe it's our job to protect our children, not the other way around. And it took some time, but I see that now. You protected us, sweetheart. You saved us."

A tear slipped down the young witch's cheek. "Why can't Daddy see it that way?" she wondered.

Helen rose from her seat and sat down beside her grieving daughter, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "He'll come around," she murmured. "You get your stubbornness from him. The hair you get from me."

Hermione laughed at her mother's joke. "Draco and I have talked about setting a date," she informed her. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out in hopes that Dad will come back."

"You do what you need to do for you and your family," Helen advised. "Draco seems like such a loving young man."

"He really is," Hermione agreed, smiling at the mention of him. But then scenes from the early morning played again in her mind. It devastated her to see the man she loved broken and crying in her arms. "I worry about him," she confided. Helen's dark eyebrows drew together as she awaited further explanation. And so, Hermione gave her an abbreviated version of the past day's events.

"You've always been strong, Hermione," Helen told her. "That's what you can give Draco right now - strength and love."

And Hermione knew she could do just that.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
>The front door opened before Draco even realized it. He heard a deep voice call out a questioning greeting. Pushing himself up, he was on hands and knees when Harry Potter entered his living room.<p>

"Too good to knock?" Draco inquired, getting to his feet. He picked up Pippa, who sat on the floor amongst a ring of couch pillows, and moved her to the play pen.

"I came to talk," Harry muttered tiredly. Draco's brows rose as if to ask "to me?" The raven haired man shook his head and asked for Hermione.

"She's visiting her mother," Draco informed him, feeling every bit as weary as his former schoolmate. "Have you come to apologize to her or make her feel worse for being with me?"

In order to distract himself, Harry pulled off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with the hem of his shirt. "Ron told me he talked to the both of you," Harry said. Draco nodded his confirmation, waiting for the Boy Who Lived to finally apologize. The front door opened before Harry had the chance.

Both men were quick to greet Hermione, who looked more tired than usual. Draco reached her first, pulling her into a hug. "What's Harry doing here?" she whispered in his ear.

"Came to talk," he replied, pulling away.

She stepped around her fiance and glared at Harry. "I'm not interested in backpedalling and apologies," she informed her oldest friend.

"I'm not sure what else I can offer," Harry confessed, his cheeks inflaming with his guilt and embarrassment. "You've been by my side through every hardship I've had to face, fighting beside me every step of the way. I dropped the ball though when it came to you, Mione. I really am sorry."

"Did Ginny put you up to this?" Hermione inquired, moving deeper into the living room. Pippa squealed with delight as her mother lifted her from the play pen and sat with her on the sofa.

"No, she didn't," Harry replied. "And neither did Ron or Mrs. Weasley. They all informed me that I was an idiot, but I came because I wanted to."

Unable to look at him, Hermione chose instead to focus on the girl in her arms. A smile lit Pippa's face, making her brown eyes sparkle. Her small fingers wrapped around the charm that hung from Hermione's necklace. Hermione laughed quietly as Pippa stared at the owl in fascination. And then she remembered who had given her the owl - Harry. The bird was a symbol of Athena, goddess of wisdom. Perhaps Ginny had been right; she had been kept around for her brains.

"I don't know that I can just forgive and forget," she decided, watching as the baby tugged on the charm. "It's not like this is the first time you've jumped to conclusions without waiting for me to explain. There is enough happening in my life at the moment that I'm not sure I can handle anything else." She caught Draco's eye as she finished and watched him leave the room.

Harry sat down beside her, his eyebrows knitting together with worry for her. "Is something going on between the two of you? I mean, is everything okay with you and Malfoy?"

Hermione pulled the charm away from Pippa as she attempted to maneuver it towards her mouth. "We're fine," she stated. "In fact, we're setting a date for the wedding. Draco's been so patient while I've worked through things, and I think we're ready to do it."

Harry smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That's great, Mione," he told her, rubbing her arm. "But there's something else, something else that's bothering you."

She glanced towards the staircase, and only when she was sure Draco would not walk down them, did she ask, "How much do you know about Lucius's sentence?"

Harry shrugged and gently tickled Pippa's kicking foot. "Sentenced to life in Azkaban for his part in the Second Wizarding War plus crimes preceding it. He can petition for parole ten years from now, but I don't see it being granted," he said, sounding like a case file. "Are you worried he'll come back? Hurt you or the baby?"

Hermione shook her head, willing her tears to stay at bay. "Not me. Draco," she admitted. She wouldn't tell him about the early morning's events because she couldn't relive them again.

"Hermione, the Aurors' office has made the Death Eaters their number one priority. I can assure you that there is no way Lucius Malfoy will leave Azkaban Prison in this lifetime."

She breathed a sigh of relief, glad to hear her friend's words. Two pieces of good news she could take back to Draco, Hermione thought. Pippa began to fuss, squirming about in Hermione's arms. "I should put her down," she told Harry. They rose from the couch simultaneously, diverging when Hermione went to the stairs and Harry the front door. "Harry, wait," she stopped him.

He removed his hand from the doorknob and turned to face her. "What is it?" he asked.

She shifted the fussy baby in her arms, bouncing her in hopes of alleviating her cries. "I don't know what Ginny's told you about my parents, but I don't think my father will be here to walk me down the aisle," she said nervously. "I was hoping maybe you and Ron would take his place."

Harry closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I would be honored," he told her. They said their goodbyes, promising to speak again soon. With a smile on her face, Hermione climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to the master bedroom was open, giving her a brief glimpse of a sleeping Draco. As Pippa began to slumber in her arms, Hermione kissed her forehead and laid her down in the crib. When the door was closed, she crossed the hall to her room and Draco.

He was stretched out on top of the powder blue duvet with his ankles crossed and an arm over his eyes. A thin stream of midday sunlight peaked through the white lace curtains, casting a yellow aura upon him. Hermione climbed onto the bed and fit herself against his side. Shifting onto his side, Draco removed his arm from his eyes and draped it around her waist.

"Everything go alright with Potter?" he asked, eyes still closed. Hermione made a small sound of confirmation. "And with your mum?"

"Everything's fine," she assured him. She relayed Harry's news about his father before pressing her lips to his. Despite his exhaustion, he deepened the kiss, using it to show her how much he loved her. Hermione turned her head, needing her mind clear to say what she needed. Draco's lips moved to her neck, tracing a path from ear to jaw. "Draco," she moaned before taking his face in her hands to move him away.

He finally opened his eyes, his forehead creasing with concern. "What?" he asked.

"I don't want to wait any longer," she told him. The lines on his forehead began to lessen as she continued. "I want to marry you. I want to set a date."


	16. Chapter 16

When I was a kid, my mother would tell us to call her Stella when she got tired of hearing "Mommy" over and over again. Yeah, today is one of those days. I've often considered changing my name, not telling my boss what it is, and then not answering when she calls me by my real name. Would I get sent to Human Resources for that?

On a happier (sadder?) note, after this there's only the Epilogue left. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 16<br>Hermione forced herself away from her bedroom window. For hours, she and Ginny had been locked in there getting her ready for her wedding. All she wanted was a quick peek at Draco who she knew would be in the backyard near the lake. The wedding arch had been placed just feet from the shore, and that was where he stood waiting to make her his wife.

"Harry and Ron want to know if you're ready," Ginny inquired, poking her head in through the crack between the door and the jamb. Inhaling deeply, Hermione nodded and followed her maid of honor into the hall.

"Is your mother okay with watching Pip?" Hermione asked worriedly as they descended the stairs to the first floor of the house.

Brown eyes rolled. "For the fifth time, Hermione, yes," Ginny replied as she handed Hermione her bouquet. "You realize she loves your child more than she does us."

"That can't be true," Hermione replied, slightly scandalized by her friend's assessment.

"It probably is," Ron agreed, offering her his right arm.

"Although, she still might like me the best," Harry added, offering her his left. The quartet laughed as they passed into the kitchen. "Ready?" Harry asked, smiling at his best friend.

Hermione nodded her head vigorously. There was nothing she wanted more than to be married. "Let's do this," she told them.

Ginny unlocked the sliding glass door and was about to pull it open when they heard the front door open. A deep voice called out Hermione's name as the sound of running footsteps approached them. It was a voice she knew well, one she had heard all her life.

It was her father.

Hermione let go of her friends and hurried out of the kitchen. They stopped moving when they came face to face. "Daddy?" Hermione breathed. Tears pricked her eyes at the sight of her father.

Henry Granger closed the distance between himself and his daughter as his own vision blurred. "You're beautiful," he said, staring at awe at the vision in white before him. There was a sense of urgency in the embrace they shared.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, holding him tighter.

"Your mother," was all he needed to say. During the months of wedding planning, Hermione had only once mentioned her regret that her father wouldn't be the one to give her away. She hadn't been aware that her mother had even heard her as she had expressed the thought so softly to Ginny. Perhaps Ginny had mentioned it to her, and Helen sought to set things right. "I'm glad I didn't miss this."

Hermione smiled. "Me too."

They were soon interrupted by Harry and Ron, telling her that the ceremony needed to start. "Mr. Granger, it's good to see you again," Harry greeted him with a firm handshake. Then he turned to Hermione and pulled her aside. "I know you asked Ron and me to do this, but I think it should be your father. Ron and I already talked about it."

Tears welled in her eyes once more as she glanced from Harry to her father. "Thank you, Harry," she murmured, pulling him into a hug. The boys left then. Hermione nervously fixed her dress around her as she voiced her request.

"I just got you back and now I have to give you away," he said sadly as he adjusted her veil. Arm in arm, father and daughter exited the house for the ceremony outside. Arriving under the arch, Henry hugged her and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied before turning to Draco. Henry took a seat beside Helen as the vows began.

"I remember the exact moment my life began," Draco started, his voice as composed as ever. "I never expected to fall in love when I went to the Ministry Ball, but that's exactly what happened. There is no one in this world I love more than you, Hermione. You've saved me in so many ways, and I will spend the rest of my days, with you, proving how grateful I am."

He held a gold band to her left ring finger. "I, Draco, give you, Hermione, this ring as a symbol of my unending love and devotion to you and our family."

Hermione squeezed his hand as she began her vows. "You have been my rock, my shoulder to cry on, my support system through the hardest times. You have been the person I turn to when times have been good and bad. And you, Draco, are the only man with whom I want to share my life.

"I, Hermione, give you, Draco, this ring as a symbol of my unending love and devotion to you and our family."

With both rings in place, the minister waved his wand over them. A soft golden glow bonded the couple in matrimony. "You may now kiss your bride," he concluded. Draco gladly obliged, holding her tightly as their lips melded into one.

The reception started soon after, but it was hours later when Draco had a moment alone with Harry. Downing a shot of liquid courage, Draco asked his childhood enemy to join him in the kitchen. With dinner and cake done, it was the one quiet place in the house.

"Listen, um, I figure this is as good a time as any to say I'm sorry," Draco started, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "I know that you and Hermione and the Weasleys are sort of a package deal, and I don't want there to be any friction because of me."

Harry nodded his appreciation. "I should apologize too," he replied, adjusting his glasses. "I was a prat when you came home. Hermione's been like a sister to me, and sometimes I'm a bit too impetuous. I see how much the two of you love each other. I never should have accused you of hurting her."

Draco extended his hand as a sign of friendship. He was instantly reminded of their first night at Hogwarts, and wondered if Harry would shake it or walk away from him. A grin touched his lips when Harry took his hand. With their truce reached, Harry turned to rejoin the party.

"Wait, Potter," Draco said, stopping him in his tracks. "What you told Hermione about my father, is it true?"

Harry nodded his head, noticing the relieved smile Draco wore. "He won't be released, and even if he is, we'll make sure you, Hermione, and your family are safe."

"Thanks, Harry," Draco said, his voice rich with sincerity.

"You're welcome, Draco."


	17. Epilogue

Here it is, the end! I actually had the idea of the Epilogue sometime around chapter 2. Hope you enjoy, and thanks so much to everyone who's read my story!

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><p>Epilogue<br>Pippa Malfoy staring unblinkingly as she sat alone at the kitchen table. Just months out of Hogwarts, the eighteen year old faced many of the same challenges as her classmates. She had applied to the Healer training program at St. Mungo's, but not a word had been received back. A small diamond ring sat on her left hand, a graduation gift from her boyfriend, Jason Flint. It was meant to mark their engagement, but she hadn't yet informed her parents.

And now she had more news to share.

Hermione Malfoy entered the kitchen with a large sack of groceries in her arms. It wasn't until she heard a sniffle that she realized she wasn't alone. "Pippa? What's wrong?" she asked, rushing to her daughter's side.

"Mum, there's something I need to tell you and Daddy," she replied, wiping at her eyes.

Hermione feared what her daughter would tell them. More than that, she feared her husband's reaction. If Pippa was _that_ upset, it had to be bad. "Do you want to tell me what it is before your father comes home?" Hermione asked, hoping to help figure out a way to tell Draco.

"I'm pregnant," Pippa whispered, still unused to the words.

Hermione sunk down onto the chair beside her daughter and held her as she cried. She too wanted to cry, but there was a problem that needed solving. "You know that whatever you decide, you have my support," she told her, smoothing down Pippa's short blonde curls.

"I don't know what to do," Pippa admitted, resting her wet cheek on her mother's shoulder.

"What's going on?"

Neither heard the front door open, nor did they know they were no longer alone. Hermione turned her head first and smiled at her husband. "We need to talk," she told him.

"Did you and Flint break up?" he asked, moving to Pippa's other side. He tried to school his voice to one of concern, but both women knew he would be ecstatic if the relationship ended.

Pippa shook her head and looked to her mother for support. Hermione turned to Draco, her eyes pleading with him not to overreact. "She's pregnant," she told him as Pippa sobbed.

Draco slammed an angry fist down on the table. "I'll kill him," he declared, jumping to his feet. "You never should have gotten involved with that boy. His father was trouble and so is he! Get him over here right now so I can hex him into the next century."

"Draco, please calm down," Hermione implored, knowing his words only upset Pippa more.

He pulled out his wand, itching to do some damage. "No, I will not calm down, Hermione," he spat. "No one hurts my daughter and gets away with it."

Pippa pulled away from her mother and got to her feet. "I'm pregnant, Dad, not injured," she stated. "He proposed. At graduation, Jason proposed. We'll get married and have the baby. Everything will be fine."

Draco shook his head and exited the kitchen without another word. But Pippa had inherited her mother's need for resolution and her father's fighting spirit. "Mum was my age when she found out she was pregnant with me. How is this any different?" she demanded, catching him as he climbed the stairs.

"It's just not the same," Draco replied, the anger gone now from his voice. He shook his head sadly and resumed his climb.

With tears in her eyes, Pippa turned to find her mother behind her. Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked, "How?" before falling into Hermione's arms.

Hermione sighed, understanding her husband's feelings exactly. "It's just different times, different circumstances," she replied. She took Pippa's chin in her hand and tilted it so they looked one another in the eye. "I promise you, though, that he'll come around."

Hours later, Hermione entered the master bedroom. Draco glared at her as she began to undress for bed. The pair remained silent as she climbed into bed. Her hand reached for the lamp to shut off the lights when Draco finally spoke.

"How can you be okay with this?"

She clicked off the light and laid down. "I'm not," she admitted. Beside her, Draco laid down too, still dressed in his work robes. He kept a safe distance between them, which aggravated Hermione. "But at the end of the day, she's still our daughter. I intend to support her. As I'm sure you recall, I was in the same situation she is."

"But that was different," Draco mumbled.

Turning over, Hermione clicked on the light. "That's right. You hated me," she retorted, narrowing her eyes in anger.

"I never regretted that night. You know that," he shot back, pulling himself into a seated position.

She reached for his hand, nervous that he would reject her touch. "I know that," she replied, losing a bit of her fire. "At least she and Jason love each other already. They've already committed to one another. Pippa won't ever have to wonder if he stayed with her just because of the baby."

At this Draco turned to her fully and cupped her cheek. "You really thought that of me?" he asked, hurt that she would ever consider such a thing.

Hermione sat up, causing his hand to fall away from her face. "There were times," she admitted. "Even after you proposed, I sometimes wondered if it was only because of Pippa. And I knew...I knew that wasn't true. I knew I was being silly. I remember the exact moment, though, when I knew I was wrong. My mum told me about that day she came home. That day she asked you if you really loved me."

"And I said yes," he finished for her. "Eighteen years, Hermione. You kept this in for eighteen years?" Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded. Draco leaned in and kissed his wife tenderly. He murmured I love you's against her lips until she pulled away.

"And Pippa?" she asked.

"I will never stop loving her," he vowed. Hermione seemed to relax at his admission. "I just...I can't support this."

Hermione pulled away, turning to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. With her back to him, she spoke, "You once told me you'd never react the way my father did," she reminded him. "You said you would never turn your back on your child, but that's exactly what you're doing. You've always said Pippa is too much like me, but we both know she got her ability to hold a grudge from you."

She glanced over her shoulder and offered her husband a sad smile. "Don't let this baby be the reason the two of you never speak again."

The wedding took just a month to put together. Pippa wore Hermione's dress, and the ceremony was planned to take place in their backyard near the lake. The bride surveyed herself in her mother's full-length mirror, assessing her appearance. She ran a hand over her flat stomach, smoothing out invisible wrinkles.

"Do I look as pretty as you did when you wore it?" she asked as Hermione put the finishing touches on her hair.

"Prettier," Hermione replied. "There, all done."

Pippa turned away from the mirror to face her mother. "Mum, what if he doesn't come?" she asked, nervously fiddling with the end of her veil.

Hermione, too, had wondered the same thing as the morning drew on. Draco refused to discuss the wedding while they planned it around him. Oftentimes, he would leave the room when there was talk of vows and centerpieces. But Hermione would catch him watching their daughter as she spoke animatedly about how well her dress fit and her need for something borrowed and blue. There was an undeniable love in his gray eyes; a love he reserved solely for his little girl.

"He'll be here," Hermione promised. "And Uncle Harry has already offered to walk you down the aisle."

Shaking her head, Pippa sat down at the vanity, careful of her dress. "I don't want Uncle Harry. I want my dad," she replied, her voice cracking as she attempted to hold back her tears. "I don't want him to stop talking to me because I know how easily he just cuts people from his life. Did his parents not approve of your marriage either?"

Hermione sighed and focused on her reflection in the mirror as she finished applying her makeup. "Purebloods, the older family especially, had a bit of difficulty overcoming some of their prejudices towards lesser born witches and wizards. Your father was the first Malfoy to marry a muggleborn. His mother, your grandmother, tried for awhile to see past blood status. I think it just proved too difficult. She was nice enough though, and she loved you from the first moment she saw you. It was just easier for Daddy to stop seeing her."

On the other side of the door stood Draco. His vision blurred as he listened to the conversation between his wife and daughter. Hearing Pippa voice her fear crushed him. Not a day had gone by that Hermione didn't remind him that he was being stupidly pigheaded, but it took that moment to believe it. Raising a fist, he knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

It was Pippa who opened the door. She stared at him with an expression somewhere between sheer relief and anger. "May I come in?" he requested, looking her over. She finally relented, opening the door wider to allow him entrance. He stopped in front of her and stroked her soft cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Stop, you'll ruin my makeup," she told him, pushing away his hand.

He looked to Hermione for support, but she excused herself under the guise of greeting her parents who had just arrived. "Mum gave you the owl, I see," he said nervously when they were alone.

Pippa shrugged and fingered the golden owl. "She said it could be my old and borrowed, but then she said it was mine to keep," she replied. "Do you reckon that jinxes things?"

Draco moved hesitantly closer and adjusted her veil. "The dress could always make up for it," he pointed out. "You still need something blue though." Pippa nodded in confirmation and waited expectantly to see what he would do. Out of his pocket he pulled a small silver hair comb, decorated with sapphires and diamonds. "Every Malfoy bride, dating back to the eighth century, has worn this," he told her, carefully placing it amongst her curls.

"It's so...sparkly," Pippa assessed, watching the sun catch the jewels as she looked at herself in the mirror. Silence lapsed as neither knew what to say next. Draco stood in front of the window, watching as Molly and Arthur Weasley took their seats.

"Mum Mum and Pop Pop just got here," he commented, turning only when he heard Pippa sniffle. "What's the matter?" he asked, closing the distance between them. He dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief, careful not to ruin her makeup.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his waist. "We should have been more careful. Maybe then you wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?" he asked, holding her tightly.

Pippa sniffed. "Hate me," she finished.

Holding her back by the shoulders, Draco looked his daughter sternly in the eye. "Never, for a second, ever believe that I could hate you," he said firmly. "Not a day of your life has gone by when I didn't love you. You're my little girl. It's hard to stop seeing you as the sweet little angel who would crawl onto my lap and ask for a story. I'm scared to lose you."

As he pulled her back to him, Pippa wound her arms around his neck. "You're not losing me, Daddy," she promised. "I love being your daughter."

"I love being your father," he replied, kissing her forehead.

"Does this mean you'll walk me down the aisle?" she asked hopefully.

Draco nodded and waited for her to retouch her makeup. Then he held out his hand to her and led her outside. The orchestra played just for them, but the walk was over too quickly for Draco's liking. Now he had to give his baby girl away. With tears in his eyes, he lifted her veil and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Pippy. Forever," he whispered.

"Forever, Daddy," she replied as he let go of her hand.


End file.
